


Room to Grow

by KCKenobi



Series: Little Moments That Lead Us Here [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Humor, Anxiety, Family Shenanigans, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Temple (Star Wars), Light Angst, Mental Health Issues, Mind Healers, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Poor Obi-Wan Kenobi, Post-Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Young Anakin Skywalker, bant is a good friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25288510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KCKenobi/pseuds/KCKenobi
Summary: In the early days of his apprenticeship, Anakin gets caught playing dress-up in his master's closet. Obi-Wan finds that perhaps, something broken inside him is beginning to heal.
Relationships: Bant Eerin & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Series: Little Moments That Lead Us Here [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833493
Comments: 77
Kudos: 460





	Room to Grow

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Расти и расти](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25506208) by [julyp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/julyp/pseuds/julyp)



Remembering hurt.

And as Obi-Wan stepped out of the Mind Healer’s office, clenching his fists inside his long sleeves, he decided he’d much rather forget. Forget Naboo, forget the Zabrak and the funeral pyre, forget that he had a 9-year-old child to raise despite feeling much like a child himself. Forgetting was easier. Forgetting was safe.

The sessions were supposed to be helping. If nothing else, they were meant to repair his shattered Force bond with Qui-Gon and stop the endless headaches. But each time he left the Halls of Healing, he found himself feeling worse—his throat tighter, his heartrate faster, his nightmares leaking into the waking hours. Obi-Wan quickened his pace. The sooner he left this place, the sooner he could forget—or at least try to.

He didn’t get very far.

“Obi-Wan?”

He froze with his hand outstretched, reaching for the waiting room door. He briefly considered making a run for it—could he pretend he hadn’t heard her? That he was in a hurry and couldn’t stay? His heartrate hitched again, and he almost kept walking. But instead he found himself turning slowly around, steeling his expression.

“Bant,” he said, giving his friend a hesitant smile. “Hi.”

She was dressed in her healer attire, and carried a bin of syringes and tubes on her hip. She smiled back.

“What are you doing here? You’re not sick, are you?”

Obi-Wan hesitated, eyes trailing briefly in the direction of the Mind Healer’s wing before skirting back to Bant.

“Um, no.” he said. “Just, ah…picking up some bandages. Not for me,” he added quickly. “My Padawan.”

“Right,” said Bant, though her eyes were hard to read. Did they show skepticism? Sympathy? Discomfort? All of the above made Obi-Wan squirm. He hadn’t exactly been _avoiding_ his friends since returning to the Temple, but moments like this were exactly the reason he hadn’t sought them out.

“Right,” he echoed, turning for the door. “Well, I’ll just be going.”

“Without your bandages?”

“What bandages?” Bant raised her eyebrows, and he cringed. _Kriff_. “Oh. Yes, of course. That’s…why I’m here.”

Bant, tactfully, didn’t say anything as she set down her tray.

When she emerged from the storage closet a few moments later and handed him the little roll of gauze, her eyes were soft. “Take care of your Padawan. But please, Obi,” she said gently. “Take care of yourself, too.”

“I’m fine.”

She exhaled. “Since when are you in the habit of lying to me?”

He swallowed. He could always count on Bant to say something like that, to read him even when he was a closed book. As a youngling, it had been comforting—to know he could wake in the night from bad dreams and find her there, to talk or joke or simply sit together and wait for the morning. When he woke in the night now, there was no one.

His eyes suddenly felt hot. Tucking the bandage roll in his pocket, Obi-Wan stepped backwards, feeling for the door.

“I’ll let you get back to work. I’m sure you’re busy.”

“Obi-Wan—”

But he was gone before she could finish.

The corridors of the Jedi Temple weren’t crowded, much to Obi-Wan’s relief. One could only tolerate so much whispering of “ _There he is—the Sith killer,”_ when passing initiates and other Padawans in the hall. So when at last he made it to the quarters he shared with Qui – _Anakin._ _With Anakin_ , he corrected himself – Obi-Wan heaved a shaky sigh of relief.

He expected to find a new mechanical contraption blocking the entrance, or perhaps a pile of droid parts on the common room floor. Anakin’s propensity for mechanics was…well, endearing, in Obi-Wan’s better moments. Irritating in his worst. He stepped into the dark room slowly, footsteps tentative so he wouldn’t trip.

But their quarters were empty.

Anakin’s bedroom was dark and his door was ajar, and only a faint light came from Obi-Wan’s room—he must’ve forgotten to turn it out before he left. Sighing, he moved to put the kettle on the stove. Perhaps tea would help him feel better. While he waited for the water to boil, he kicked off his boots and collapsed on the couch with a shaky exhale.

He felt a little guilty lying to Anakin about his whereabouts this time every week. But there was no way he could tell him the truth, either—the boy needed stability. He needed a Master who had his act together, who was balanced and collected…or at the very least, could sleep through the night without jolting awake in cold sweat, crying out for someone who wasn’t there. And most of all, he needed to believe that Obi-Wan could train him just as well as Qui-Gon would have. 

_Even if we both know that isn’t the truth._

The thought leaked into his mind uninvited, and Obi-Wan tried to release it into the Force like the Mind Healers told him to do. It didn’t work. But he kept trying, eventually sinking into light meditation, seeking peace he somehow doubted he’d find.

And then he heard it:

_CRASH._

Obi-Wan sat up. Perhaps he wasn’t as alone as he thought. He scanned the empty room, though found nothing but silence and the hiss of boiling water in the kettle. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, trying to settle himself. For one strange moment, he found himself expecting Qui-Gon to come striding into the room.

He didn’t, of course.

“Anakin?”

“Uh, Master!” came the reply, and Obi-Wan’s shoulders drooped. “Didn’t know…didn’t know you were home, um…”

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed, his relief short-lived. Anakin sounded…off. And even stranger, his voice was coming from Obi-Wan’s bedroom.

He stood up, wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Uh, nothing. I’m not doing anything. Not a single thing.”

Obi-Wan snorted. _Yes,_ he thought, _that’s the voice of someone who’s telling the truth._

“Are you sure?” he said, starting for the bedroom door.

“Wait! Don’t come in,” Anakin yelped. “Please, just give me a second, I, um…wait!”

But Obi-Wan didn’t wait. He entered the bedroom, coming face-to-face with his Padawan.

Who was currently dressed from head-to-toe in all of Obi-Wan’s clothes.

Obi-Wan clapped a hand over his mouth. Anakin was drowning in a long pair of trousers, the belt wrapped twice around his waist to keep them from dropping to the ground. The boots went all the way up past his knees and could easily contain three of his tiny feet. The tunic draped down to his thighs and slid off one shoulder. He had two of Obi-Wan’s outer robes on at once, and they were so long that they piled up around his feet.

Anakin’s face was bright red as he desperately tried to pull off the boots. But as he hopped around on one foot, pulling at the shoe, he lost his balance and tumbled to the floor. He disappeared into a pile of fabric, looking much like a heap of dirty laundry.

“Please don’t be mad,” came a tiny voice from somewhere inside it.

But Obi-Wan couldn’t even reply.

He was too busy doubling over in laughter.

The sensation took him by surprise – the twitch of his diaphragm, the bubble of air in his throat, the muscles moving in a way he thought they’d forgotten how to. But then, suddenly, there he was – laughing. Really laughing, for the first time in weeks. And though his hands still shook as he covered his grin, the despair receded for the time being, and he was okay. He was here with Anakin—his ridiculous, wild, wonderful Padawan—who was, for reasons unknown, wearing all of Obi-Wan’s clothes.

And he was laughing.

“What in the galaxy,” Obi-Wan said when he could finally catch his breath, “do you think you’re doing?”

Anakin’s head had emerged from the fabric, revealing his crimson cheeks beneath the hood of a robe. A hesitant smile was pushing its way onto his face, and Obi-Wan realized that his Padawan had never actually seen him like this. He didn’t know that Obi-Wan was usually bright and droll and sarcastic. He didn’t know who Obi-Wan used to be, before everything changed—the person Obi-Wan _really_ was.

And perhaps, he decided, he’d rather like Anakin to get to know that person. Once he was able to find him again, beneath it all.

_But this,_ Obi-Wan thought as he swallowed down the laughter, _this is a start._

Anakin was shuffling to his feet. “I just, um…” he murmured. “In lightsaber class, Aaron said the quartermaster builds secret pockets into the Knights’ robes. I was just going to look, but then…” He hid his face in the hood and looked down. “You were at your meeting and, I don’t know, I figured it couldn’t hurt to maybe sort of try it on and see if I looked as wizard as you.”

He mumbled the last words so quickly and quietly that they jumbled together. But Obi-Wan laughed again and closed the distance between them. He pushed the hood back and ruffled Anakin’s hair.

“I’d say so,” he said. “You’ve just got a little room to grow.”

Anakin’s head fell back in surprise as he looked up at Obi-Wan, a grin splitting onto his face. And something about it, something about the fact that Anakin was smiling because of _him_ , mended some small broken piece inside of Obi-Wan.

“Well then, Master Skywalker,” Obi-Wan said, and now Anakin laughed in earnest. “Would you care for some tea? I just put the kettle on.”

Anakin made a face.

“Oh, come on,” Obi-Wan said. “It’s not that bad. It’s an acquired taste.”

Anakin gagged. “Well I don’t want to acquire it.”

“Fine,” Obi-Wan said with a snort. “Juice, then?” Anakin nodded. “I’ll pour it. In the meantime, you can hang my robes back in the closet, yes?”

He nodded again and turned away.

But then, Obi-Wan remembered something—years ago, when he was 13, he and Qui-Gon had been assigned a mission on a freezing planet. The Temple-issued winter coats at the time were bright green, and Obi-Wan put his on and stuck two cups inside the hood to look like ears. When he walked into the kitchen on his knees and said “A good look for me this is, hmm?” in his best Yoda voice, Qui-Gon had laughed so hard he needed to sit down, and then quickly snapped a picture for posterity. Obi-Wan probably still had it somewhere. He’d have to look. And suddenly, he found himself smiling at the thought.

Because he remembered. And for the first time, it didn’t hurt.

“Anakin, wait,” Obi-Wan said.

He turned as Obi-Wan reached for something on the bookshelf—a holorecorder—and held it up.

“Smile!”

“WAIT, MASTER NO—”

_Click!_

**Author's Note:**

> This is such a dumb little thing lol but most of what I’m writing right now is kinda heavy, and honestly my heart’s a little heavy at the moment too. So I just needed to write something to make myself laugh. Hopefully it gives someone else out there a little laughter too 😊 Comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> My SW Tumblr: [ kckenobi ](https://kckenobi.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Update: This story now has a sequel, [ A Moment and a Memory! ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25314535)


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